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.H74 
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XnselmoIBertini. 



A POEM, 



B Y 



AI^OBINE ELIZABETH HILTON 



k ^M 



«NSELMO 3KERTINI. 




A POEM, 



BY 



AI^OBINE ELIZABETH HILTO 



N 






' 



QUINCY, ILL.: 
HERALD PRINTING COMPANY. 

1871. 



,H74- 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by 

JV^OBINE J^LIZftBETH ^HlLTON, 

In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 



To my Brother. 



,7»CSBURY }VHITEFIELD j^ILTON, 



This Poem is inscribed. 



INTRODUCTORY. 

Anselmo Bertini, the subject of this poem, was born in Italy; 
and although at his birth fortune seemed disposed to make him her 
especial favorite, yet the morning of his early childhood had scarcely 
passed ere the goddess' smiles were changed to frowns, and she seemed 
then to select him as the target at which her arrows were aimed, and in 
whose breast they ever found a lodgment. 

His mother dying, he was left to the care of his father, who mis- 
understanding his nature, supposed him almost entirely devoid of gen- 
erosity or affection, whereas he was possessed of both to an extreme. 
On this hinge seemed to turn his life's destiny. His father indulging in 
a strange dislike to his youngest born, Anselmo was sent from home at 
an early age. 

Of Italian blood he was, (as his nationality would indicate) of an 
impetuous temperament, and in an unguarded moment did an act of 
violence which embittered the remainder of his life, and for which he 
atoned finally with his life, but felt that he found mercy of Him who 
knoweth all things. 






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jg/F was in Italy's clime, 'neath soft sunny skies, 
'"l^-S Where the painter and poet ever revel in song, 
W$ (£ (He tinges the softest who borrows her dyes 
He ever sings sweetest whose muse was there born.) 

It was here I first breathed my infantile breath, 
In the city of Naples, on that mirror-like bay, 

Whose waters the gondolier's song oft repeats 
And the winds echo softly his evening love-lay. 

'Twas here where my mother, (oh ! forgive these hot tears 
For ever they start at that hallowed name.) 

It was here and with her that my earliest years 

Were mimic elysiums that but pleasure could claim. 

She would cool my warm nature that others would heat 

For cruel amusement to see me enraged, 
When my nursery plans they'd so often defeat, 

Then laugh that the pigmy such a tempest displayed. 



ANSELMO BERTINI, 



Dut alas ! for me now, my mother is dead, 
"^ And the spoiled child is left to merciless ones, 
With my father no favorite my presence a dread, 
I experienced the fate that justice but spurns. 

Of tenderest affection disposed to extremes, 

My father supposed me entirely devoid, 
But 'twas his own stately manner so lofty and grand 

From his arms had repelled me, had made me a coward, 

Senatorial robes all rustling with pride, 

His magnificent person so becoming his state, 

All e'er conspired to daunt my young heart, 

I could not approach him, and he seemed me to hate. 

But the family title and dignity all 

My elder brother was soon to possess, 
No sacrifice large if it but served him well, 

To the convent I went, 'twas my father's behest. 



A POEM. 



A /Ty father's grand palace and its precincts quite near, 
^- VA Were all that I knew of this world's lovely charms, 
When high convent walls wrought but harassing fears, 
And the monks ever heightened my needless alarms. 

They seemed to delight in fanning the flame 

That in my young fancy had before been enkindled, 

They talked of the earth being hot-lava-veined 
In the centre of which lost spirits e'er mingled. 

While they told their dark tales old Vesuvius was groaning 
With eruptions that caused her convulsive-like throes, 

While her smoke oftentimes draped the land in deep mourning 
And then her lurid light caused an ominous glow. 

While the doleful accompaniment of deep mountain thunder 
Made the towers and walls of our strong convent shake, 

How could gloom be made deeper, and is it a wonder 

That scenes of this kind should make my young heart quake? 



ANSELMO BERTINL 



~T) ut long years have rolled, and I'm nearly sixteen 
•^ When the monks will allow me a few days respite, 
Ah ! soon now I leave the old mountain stream, 

And the eagle that screamed 'bove the lone mountain height. 

Oh heavens ! I exclaimed so transported was I, 

As I gazed on the landscape that spread itself round, 

And drank in the beauty of fair Naples bay 
And far in the distance my loved infant home. 

The rich sunny country gay with vineyards and groves, 
The song of the peasant with his picturesque dress, 

And the sweet rustic music that with the sun rose 

Whose wings fanned the air as though waking from rest. 

Was this the bright world from which I'd been banished 
While so young as scarcely to have tasted its joys ? 

And must I return, and the sweet vision vanish 
And be buried again among ancient lore ! 



A POEM. 



f" must, but my heart unwilling would stay, 
-*• And feast on the beauty it was ravishing in, 
But 'twas soon I rejoined it, for, away, far away, 
I fled from the convent, till its echoes grew dim. 

No monastic cell will claim me again, 

For a glimpse of the world has severed those chords 
Of awe, and of fear, ah ! but slavish such chains, 

No force can compel me to that dark abode. 

Will a paternal smile meet my grieved throbbing heart 
And unravel the pall that sorrow's hand wove? 

My mother, (meaning words) how quick she'd impart 
The balm my soul needs, a parent's warm love. 

Tis my native city once more heaves in view 

With its long crowded streets all astir with such life, 
With its gay palace splendors ; oh ! it seemed but to me 
A world of enchantment, that with pleasure was rife. 



IO ANSELMO BERTINI, 



r I 'he servants perceived how unwelcome I was 
-*- And menial-like treated me e'en with neglect, 
Thus baffled and outraged as my best feelings were, 
Nought but silence and gloom they seemed to reflect. 

In this state of mind I was treated one day 
By one petted servant with marked disrepect, 

All command of my feelings in an instant gave way, 
To the earth I then struck him, but I felt a regret. 

My father was passing and stopped not to ask 
The reason of this, but rebuked me with scorn, 

'Gainst a father's injustice my bosom now swelled, 
I replied with impatience, for my hot spirit burned. 

It flushed in my cheek, and in my dark eye it kindled, 
But my sensitive heart swelled and quenched it in tears, 

Ere my passion was vented with my words tears had mingled, 
'Twas the burst of emotion that had smothered for years. 



A POEM. II 



A /I y father incensed ordered me to my room, 

I retired, but in silence, for utterance was gone, 
I overheard voices, and listening, soon 
I found 'twas a plot to secure my return. 

At his feet now for mercy I imploringly fell, 
And asked his forgiveness for all I had done, 

A release from my prison, the monastic cell, 

Oh! I longed for his love, to be restored as his son. 

But no love for me was in his haughty heart, 
He heard my complaints but coldly replied, 

Ah ! blighted again was my nature's best part, 
In a father's affection my soul would abide. 

An unwelcome guest in the parental home, 

My feelings all shriveling from the frost of neglect, 

"Oh, surely 'twere better the wide world to roam, 
E'en though it's high seas are scattered with wrecks." 



12 ANSELMO BERTINI, 



A vessel makes sail from the harbor just now, 
^*- But where is she bound? no matter where, 
Any place would be better than that convent cell, 

And a cottage look brighter than the gay palace glare. 



Then adieu to the convent with its griefs and disgusts, 

Adieu to the palace that frowns coldly on me, 
Each wave bears me onward to some foreign port, 

Mid nature's fair beauty I can bask and be free. 

Twilight deepens to darkness and the vessel is tossed 
By the breath of the storm -king to maddening heights, 

While the waves lash around her as though the sea-fiends were wrotr 
And were warring with ocean in their own demon might. 

But the tops of those breakers are downy to me, 
And their deafening thunder but harmony's strains, 

I can dream of the beauty I shall soon again see, 
And its roarings to me shout liberty's name. 



A POEM. 



J 3 



T^or each billow gained I'm farther away 

■*- From that prison the convent, where my chafed spirit writhed, 
From the palace whose presence my best feelings slay 
And makes my heart marble with the hatred it breathes. 

'Tis Genoa's tall spires that now rise to view, 

Ah ! its splendor is dazzling, I shall be happy here 

Murmured I, as I wandered at close of the day 
'Mong green colonnades and fountains so clear. 

But a few days have passed and my now empty purse 
Tells of penury's pain I had ne'er before known, 

'Twas want's haggard form, oh, what could be worse, 
Like a lost star I wandered those streets all alone. 

But chance led my steps to a pompous old church 
Where a painter was placing a picture how fair ! 

I forgot for the moment cold penury's touch 
In the Madonna's sweet face of beauty so rare. 



14 ANSELMO BERTINI, 



S 



o innocent, lovely, the expression divine, 
So pathetically tender, I was rapt in delight, 
My lips quite unconscious murmured, lovely, sublime, 

My hands were clasped tightly, as each shade struck my sight, 



Not all unperceived was the emotion I felt, 

And flattered, the painter soon addressed himself to me, 
Ah ! so strange, in his heart such benevolence dwelt, 

Unrestrained in his presence, I felt, oh ! how free. 

I told him my hist'ry save my name and my rank, 
His house was my home, and his pupil was I, 

It proved an asylum to my spirit so shrank, 

How its drooped wings revived in that home's sunny sky 

'The most blissful period of my life then it was, 

And prosperity's sun at its zenith just now, 
My talents were praised and there seemed not one cause 
Why the world should not honor and to my genius bow. 



A POEM. 15 



' 1\/T 0NG tne numerous f aces to m y care now entrusted 

■L' J- Was that of a girl who from the convent had come. 
She had come for the purpose, and 'round her advent seemed 
New interest, that woke in the heart of each one. [clustered 

No wonder (I thought as I first saw her stand 

In a large palace chamber that was gorgeously bright, 

While a fumed vernal breeze her downy cheeks fanned,) 
That the star in the picture was the one all in white. 

A bright gleam of sunshine upon her slight form fell 

And a kind of soft halo around her it shed, 
While the rich crimson chamber received it all well, 

And its reflection seemed centered on the fair one's head. 

But sixteen summers she yet could claim 

And to her each one had its beauty bequeathed, 

For nature and art had both fondly deigned 

To select choicest tints when her they'd enwreathe. 



1 6 ANSELMO BERTINI, 



/^VH ! loveliest mortal that earth ever saw, 
^-^ Was not such perfection immortal thought I? 
Do you think I such beauty if I wished could o'er draw? 
Such task would be useless, and the charge I deny. 

Again and again those features I sketched, 
And fondly protracted what was undoing me, 

I became so enamored that I could no longer rest, 
A slave quite I was, and could not get free. 

But a few days finished this happiest task, 

Oh, that it could lasted through life how e'er long, 

Though Rezina was gone yet her image would last 
And thrill my hot bosom with love's sweetest song. 

'Twas female loveliness in which I excelled 

As the world oft declared, (little knowing the cause,) 

'Twas the multiplied image of Rezina that swelled 
That fountain of beauty from which love ever draws. 



A POEM. 



17 



r have stood with delight and heard them extol 
■■■ The unequalled grace of a saint so called, 
Then bow and adore, while their breath they would hold, 
'Twas the charms of Rezina, that had them thus enthralled. 

A year had elapsed ere this kind of dream, 
Almost a delirium, perhaps quite, I might say 

Was as yet all unbroken, and the enchantment still seemed 
As real as if yester had been its birth-day. 

From this dream so delicious I was suddenly roused, 
For my kind benefactor in death was now sleeping, 

Ah, many indeed were the pangs that it caused, 
And many the hours of love's bitter weeping. 

For now thus bereft, so friendless and lone ; 

Broken-hearted was I, with grief overwhelmed ; 
But for me he'd provided that when he was gone, 

(Ah, my heart throbs with grief and with gratitude swells.) 



(2) 



1 8 ANSELMO BERTINI 



A nobleman's mansion should then be my home, 
^*- And I transferred to his fatherly care, 
He saw at a glance how my spirit was worn, 
And said that "I needed a change of air." 



"A villa of his that stood near the sea 

And commanded a view of a picturesque coast, 

A pleasant retreat it must prove for me, 

And a place more befitting no land would dare boast." 

"An asylum more truly could never be formed 
Than this lovely villa for a desolate mind, 

With its statues and fountains, and cool shady lawns, 
With it's flower-crowned groves so sweet, so sublime." 

This scene thus tranquil soothed my turbulent breast, 
And its waves grew calm, though tremulous still ; 

Till a soft voluptuous gloomy-like rest 

Seemed so sweetly blended with the romantic spell. 



A POEM. 



HPhe Count's son, Alberto, (his only pet son,) 
■*■ Had been my companion since my short stay here, 
And I'd oft heard him speak of the beauty of one 
Whom he said still resided in a convent quite near. 

But I'd not been long in that splendid retreat, 

Ere another one came to add charms to the scene, 

But that lovely girl first the Count must needs meet, 
For the father when dying had bequeathed her to him. 

A far distant relative's child the fair was, 

Who too had died lately, and no fortune had left, 

"Such a delicate flower," and he breathed a long pause, 
"More tender than ever so lately bereft." 

'Twas her whom Alberto had so often praised, 

His beau-ideal of beauty and grace, 
Declaring as oft the poet's sweet lays 

Had never half told the charms of her face. 



ANSELMO BERTINI, 



T) ut now she approaches, on the count's arm leaning, 
*~* Her figure and movement each elegance pure, 
Ah ! that lovely form is still clad in deep mourning, 
And that vail so bewitching falls like dew on a flower. 

They enter, ah, yes ; but what my surprise ! 

When I looked on Rezina so pale with late grief, 
On her cheek was the lily, while the rose's latest dyes 

Seemed trembling for flight, like the fall aspen leaf. 

More lovely than ever Rezina now seemed, 

For a sweet, sad tenderness crowned her full brow ; 

And 'neath softest beauty her dreamy eyes beamed, 

As to sorrow's stern mandate she seemed gently to bow. 

She trembled and wept at seeing me now, 

For she remembered with whom she had seen me before ; 
Oh, the years that have flown, pass in gloomy review, 

Ah ! where are the friends of the bright days of yore. 



A POEM. 21 



TV /Ty emotions were such as I cannot express, 
^ But sympathy drew by its tenderest ties 

Our hearts, till they sang in unison's notes, 

And drank the sweet nectar of sympathy's skies. 

For each one had lost their best earthly friend, 

Upon the kindness of others had each one been thrown ; 

Our tastes so alike, and pursuits just the same, 
'Mid poetry, painting, and music we roamed. 

Her nature so sweet found a place in my heart, 
Till a madness delicious it sent to my brain ; 

She appeared more than mortal, and I played the part 
Of a worshiper e'en, and seemed scarcely to blame. 

But, oh ! she was mortal, and e'en loving too, 
And soon too I found her affections were mine ; 

Both in youth, — does it seem at all strange to you, 

That our hearts should so soon round each other twine ? 



22 ANSELMO BERTINI, 



/^\H gods ! what a dream ; e'en the most transient dream 
^-^ Of unalloyed bliss, passed over my soul, 
A paradise quite, the world to me seemed ; 

For a " mortal perfection," I had reached life's fair goal. 

How often we've rambled the shores of Sestri, 

Or climbed it's wild mountains 'bove it's villa-gemmed shore, 
While far, far below, was the blue billowy sea ; 

Ah, nature was lovely, but woman e'en more. 

For Rezina's slight form on my arm gently leaned, 

As her faltering steps I proudly sustained ; 
Undefined was the charm, that in her wake ever gleamed, 

Transported was I, how could I refrain. 

How often we've listened to Philomel's song, 

As he poured his soft notes 'mong nature's own bowers, 

While our stay in the garden he would often prolong ; 
Why had poets e'er thought he awakened sad hours ? 



A POEM. 23 



T)ut why, oh! why is it, that this elysium of life 
^ Should vanish so early like mid-summer's dews ? 
Why are fields spread before us with pleasures so rife, 
And then fade while admiring like Aurora's bright hues? 

I was first to awaken from this delirium of bliss, 

Rezina's young heart I had gained, and 'twas mine ; 

But what should I do with a treasure like this, 

With no wealth and no prospect, should I ask her fair hand ? 

Would I take advantage of her confident love, 

And sink her with me to poverty's vail ? 
Would I act the villain, and snare the sweet dove, 

When to me she had flown? — oh ! adjectives fail 

To express the upbraidings my soul felt within ; 

I moved round the palace as though guilty of crime, 
I felt that I was, for to me 'twas a sin 

To crush out the life of this flower in its prime. 



24 ANSELMO BERTINI, 



I loved her to worship, but still I well knew 
How wretched 'twould make her to be doomed to my lot, 
Cold penury's touch; I'd rather bedew 

The grave of my idol with tears that were hot. 

I will fly! oh I'll fly! but whither, oh, where? 

So abased as I am, I will leave the wide world ; 
For what is the world with its wave-beaten shore, 

When all that is dear is wrenched from my hold ? 

I was no longer charmed with Rezina's sweet voice, 
Nor gazed on the beauty her smiles e'er enhanced ; 

Oh ! wretch that I was, for having won them so false, 
In what kind of spell had I been entranced ? 

She saw the marked change, and asked why it was so, 
So frankly she asked and I answered the same ; 

I told her the depth of my soul's deepest woe, 

And how unworthy I was of her heart and her hand. 



A POEM. 25 



'T^ears filled her dark eyes till she could no longer see, 

•*- And she could not perceive how I was to blame ; 
Nay more, when she spoke of my fortunes and me, 
Her features grew radiant with visions of fame. 

But suddenly now my fortune is changed, 
My brother is dead, and my father lies low, 

The breeze bears me news of a home and a name, 
Rank and wealth both restored, and love's riches too. 

"Rezina," said I, "I can claim you as mine, 

An outcast am I no longer now, 
Read the news that restore me to myself and my name, 

To adversity's sceptre I need no longer bow." 

To Alberto I opened my tried soul's ordeal, 

And he rejoiced with me at my prospects so bright, 

Expressed his regret that I was e'er made to feel 
Adversity's arrow, or her withering blight. 



26 ANSELMO BERTINI, 



"HPwas determined that I should hasten away, 
*- In my father's affection myself to restore, 

While Alberto would be the channel which through 
Our mutual interests should e'er be watched o'er. 

But that parting scene I shall never forget, 
'Twas delicious, 'twas sweet, but agony too; 

In a little pavilion our favorite retreat — 

Ah, how oft I returned to say once more adieu. 

That look, big with meaning, of speechless emotion, 
The rapturous sight of those tear-bedewed cheeks ; 

(With tears in return I paid my devotion,) 

Oh, that pledge of love too in its beauty unique. 

At this moment I see her as she stood gently leaning 
And parted the vines where clustered the dews, 

'Mid eve's virgin beauty her soft eyes were beaming, 
While odors seemed wafting a thousand adieus. 



A POEM. 27 



A s the bark from the harbor bore me swiftly away, 
"*■ With what eagerness now my eye watched the shore. 

Till 'mid the dark trees I discovered a ray 
Of light from the window of her I adored. 

On arriving at Naples, — oh, how I had mourned 
That long withheld blessing, an own father's love ; 

But, ah ! as I entered that ancestral home, 
I could not say father, however I strove. 

A stranger indeed where I even was born, 

A few years had wrought such a change too in me, 

A fugitive stripling from the convent's deep gloom, 
But now 'twas no more, and never would be. 

A stranger indeed, I burst into tears, 

For I thought of the prodigal son that returned ; 
But as to a welcome I needed no fears, 

Thrice welcome was I, when I was once known. 



28 ANSELMO BERTINI, 



A servant now hastened my father to tell, 
-^*- Lest my too sudden presence should give him a shock ; 
I must feel his embrace, and I could not wait well 
The return of the servant, it seemed but a mock. 



His chamber I entered, but oh, such a change, 
I had left him in pride, so vigorous and strong ; 

His wandering eye, it looked, ah, so strange, 

And his tall stately form by disease had been stormed. 

All his past wrongs to me were forgotten, forgiven were they, 

I sank at his bed-side, forgive me ! I cried ; 
Ah, that vacant look, it thrills me to-day, 

Oh, can it be he? my father, I sighed. 

By degrees he remembered his long lost son, 

Laid his hands on my head and burst into tears ; 

I watched the ebbing sands, nor e'er left the room 
Without his expressing some infantile fears. 



A POEM. 29 



TT is mind with his body in the ruin had shared, 
"*- And that proud intellect lay prostrated quite, 
No object but me to his mind had been spared ; 

And what little I could, I would do with my might. 

I must give him my presence, for 'twas most I could do, 
To leave him were cruel, though the period was short, 

My love a new trial must here undergo ; 

Then I wrote to Rezina, of my return an account. 

I painted in colors, though vivid, yet true, 
The torments I suffered at being from her, 

Every day seemed an age, (though its hours were few,) 
An age of love lost, ah ! it seemed even more. 

The letter I enclosed in another to Alberto, 

Who was e'er to be sentinel, our interests to guard ; 

The reply from him warm, with friendship aglow, 
I still rested sure of Rezina's regard. 



30 ANSELMO BERTINI, 



r I ^he weeks and the months rolled slowly along, 
A And fate seemed determined to rivet me there, 
For life's lingering flame that was so nearly gone 

In the socket still flickered, I still watched with care. 

His spirit's departure would alone set me free, 

Yet how could I wish my liberty so ; 
The most painful pleasure, 'twas truly to me 

Some trial for him to thus undergo. 

Oh, glad, glad indeed, was I to atone 

For provoked disobedience of those days of yore, 

And oh, how I longed for those days' return, 

But they mocked my relentings, and would never come more. 

But my love for Rezina from absence gained force, 
And a still deeper channel for itself ever wore ; 

I sought not the pleasures of which fortune's a source, 
But sat by my father, and e'er thought of her. 



A POEM. 



31 



*VX That wealth were her letters, what a solitary joy; 

* * Though less and less frequent, of assurance still full, 
Of love unabated, it's rays still shone pure, 
And Alberto said often that all was quite well. 

* * * * * * * 

"Ah, man, how demoniac thy designs have e'er been 
When self paramount thy end thou wouldst gain ; 

With a tried friend's happiness, wouldst be wanton e'en, 
And from the cup of life's nectar the last drop would drain. 

"All unknown to Rezina were the epistles from her, 
For Alberto had answered in a disguised hand ; 

Though her heart was another's, her hand he would win, 
While treachery to both, must be success's fillet band." 

******** 

Two years had elapsed, they were ages instead, 

But now it was o'er, my father was dead, 
His last faltering prayers were breathed o'er the head 

Of the one he had mourned, but now returned son. 



32 ANSELMO BERTINI, 



A nd when due honors I'd paid to his last resting-place, 
^■*- And from my sight he was hid in the ancestral tomb, 
I dispatched my affairs, and soon turned my face 

Once more tow'rd the Eden of my sweet villa-home. 

Our voyage was prosperous, and what was my rapture 

When the dawn of the morning displayed the dizzy hights 

Of the Appenines rising, the clouds they had captured, 

For their shadowy summits 'bove the clouds bathed in light. 

The sweet breath of summer just wafted us o'er 
The long wavering billows that were rolling us on, 

Till to the shore of Sestri, they our little bark bore, 
When a world of enchantment, from the deep-blue seemed born. 

As I gazed on its bosom, bright villages gleamed, 

And palaces rose in the distance afar ; 
And then too the villa which Rezina contained, 

A speck in the landscape, yet my heart's guiding star. 



A POEM. 



33 



r gazed, and still gazed, the long summer's day, 
■*■ On that spot that was now growing each hour on my sight ; 
'Till the telescopic view each feature betrayed, 

And I fancied I saw her fair form draped in white. 

Could she only know her lover was near, 

That this white-sailed bark was wafting him on ; 

That with each command given, for the harbor we steered, — 
And my fond impatience made each billow seem long. 

But the shadows of evening were shrouding the scene, 
And the moon in her beauty and fullness now rose, 

And shed that soft light to lovers so dear, 

O'er the shores of Sestri, that in majesty flows. 

In unutterable bliss my whole soul was bathed, 
Yes, those halcyon evenings I should once more enjoy, 

In those garden walks where soft zephyrs e'er played ; 
Or 'neath green waving trees, on Sestri's lovely shore. 

13) 



34 ANSELMO BERTINI 



T) ut the night passed away, and the morning now came, 
*-* While a deep agitation my stirred bosom knew ; 
" What changes had time, in his strength dared to claim? ' 
While to the villa now nearing I almost flew. 

My deep agitation, my very frame shook, 

And I spurred my horse onward to redoubled speed ; 

But I left him awhile at the cottager's nook, 

I would regain composure for the forth-coming need. 

I entered the garden, it looked quite the same, 
And I then felt assured that all would be well ; 

The vines and the flowers, all breathed the sweet name 
Of her who had charmed them with love's dreamy spell. 

Joy flushed in my bosom, as with short hurried step ; — 
There's the alleys, and arbor, — but I made no delay, 

I remembered the watches we'd so often kept, 
While Philomel warbled his plaintive love lay. 



A POEM. 35 



A s the avenue I pressed, with its archway of green, 
^*- Her favorite pavilion I now first beheld, 
The vines clambered still, as our parting scene, 

When she waved me, and wept me, that last, long farewell. 

In passing it now, the tones of a voice 

Thrilled my heart with appeals, that I could not mistake ; 
For an instant I paused, in astonishment lost, 

With a flower so fragile, what course should I take? 

The broad marble steps I softly ascended, 

And through the half-open door saw Rezina's slight form ; 
The air that she warbled, with sorrow was blended, 

While a painting of mine she had carefully drawn. 

I gazed but a moment, with emotions delicious ; 

She paused in her singing, then followed a sigh ; 
Rezina, I murmured, in a half smothered voice, 

She gave me a glance, then uttered a cry. 



36 ANSELMO BERTINI, 



Che had brushed back the ringlets, that clustering hung 
^ In richest profusion about her fair face ; 
But horror-struck, she to the earth would have fallen, 
Had I not have caught her in my firm embrace. 

To my bosom I folded her now, oh, how close, 

While my voice was quite stifled in o'erwhelming joy; 

She lay in my arms, without motion or pulse, 
Ah ! closed were her eyes and livid her brow. 

By words of endearment I would fain bring her too ; 

Then slowly recovering, half opening her eyes, 
"Where am I," she murmured, so faintly, "oh, where?" 

It is he, your adorer, for you he would die ! 

"Oh no, no, no, away! away ! ! " she wildly insisted, 

As into new life she suddenly sprang ; 
From my fondest embrace herself she e'en wrested, 

And covered her face with her tiny white hands. 



A POEM. 37 



/~^ood heavens! I exclaimed, is this the warm love 
^^ You professed for me ever, in my absence so long? 
At the mention of love, she shuddered, and strove 
To say, "that she now to another belonged." 

Oh, that look of anguish, I shall never forget, 

And I reeled to and fro, as though drunken or mad, 

I caught at a window-frame near for support ; 
All was chaos around me, — truly reason had fled. 

But when I recovered, Rezina was lying 

On a sofa near by in agony's mien ; 
Ah, faithless ! cried I, but that beautiful being 

In such cruel distress, — all my love then redeemed. 

Could I ever have dreampt of such a moment as this ! 

Could I have suspected e'en you were untrue? 
Her face she up-raised, all streaming with tears, 
"Ah, never! indeed, were I untrue to you." 



38 ANSELMO BERTINI. 



" 'T^hey said you were dead, that the ship ne'er returned 
A In which you embarked for your native home ; " 

What ? in spite of the letters that have constantly flown, 
In which separation we alike ever mourned ? 



She gazed at me wildly ; "no letters have come ; 

Ah, never ! no never ! as for mercy I hope ; " 
(An awful surmise shot through my wild brain,) 

But indeed, who was it that told the report ? 

She paused for a moment, then "Alberto," she said ; 

Oh, curse him ! cried I, my clenched fists extending ; 
" Hold, hold ! " she exclaimed, and then quickly plead — 

" He, he, is my husband," — this was all that was wanting, 

To explain the perfidy that upon me had been played ; 

Like liquid fire was the blood in my veins, 
I saw at a glance how we'd both been betrayed, 

But she, the poor victim, thought 'twas her that I blamed. 



A POEM. 39 



" T am guiltless entire," she whispered so faintly; 

■*■ And in it I saw more than she meant to reveal; 
'Tis well, muttered I, in accents of fury, 

An account he shall render, this blade he shall feel. 

These half-smothered accents Rezina had heard, 
And in her pale face new terror now flashed ; 

" Say nothing to him, oh, say not a word, 
For my sake, don't tell him a word that has passed." 

Do you even then fear him? does he dare be unkind 

To the one I've e'en worshiped for years that have gone ? 

Tell me quickly, said I, then grasping her hand, 

" No, no," she cried, frightened, in a faltering tone. 

But those wasted features, and that agonized eye, 
Had told me the hist'ry she fain would conceal ; 

A mind broken down, 'twas tyranny's cry, 

Already the truth, was but too plainly revealed. 



4-0 ANSELMO BERTINI, 



A nd could it be so, that this fragile flower, 
■^*- From me had been snatched, and thus trampled on ? 
Every passion seemed roused, like a tempest to lower 
On the head of that one who such villainy'd shown. 

As I strode by the window, ah, Alberto, — this night, — 
From the pavement I sprang, in a moment, was there ; 

He knew I had come, and turned pale with affright, 
Of my firm intention he seemed well aware. 

His sword he had drawn, and trembling he stood, 
(Ah, well might he draw his weapon of war,) 

I snatched my stiletto, put by his sword, 

Then buried my poinard in his bosom down far. 

He fell with the blow, but my rage unabated, 
Like a blood-thirsty tiger on my victim I sprang ; 

I redoubled the blows, for like a demon I hated, 
And his expiring groans on the mild air soon rang. 



I 



A POEM. 41 



looked on that face, so horrid in death, 
Till aroused by strange shrieks that were piercing and wild, 



I looked, and beheld all panting for breath, 
The affrighted Rezina, insanity's child, 

My wild brain was whirling, and I fled from the scene, 
From the garden I went like another cursed Cain ; 

On my head was a curse, and in my bosom a fiend, 
Oh, remorse, yes remorse; can hell boast worst pain ? 

I fled to the mountains, and wandered for days 

'Mong their lone savage heights, that e'er frowned on me ; 

How there I existed, or what dangers I braved, 

I cannot now tell, but, ah, my poor victim I ever could see ! 

I tried to out-travel the curse, that still wound 

Like an adder's tight coil, my heart-strings around ; 

But the shrieks of Rezina in my ear how they rang, 

And the blood of Alberto cried to me from the ground. 



42 ANSELMO BERTINI, 



"D ocks, torrents, and trees, with my crime e'er resounded, 
■^ Oh, the pang of remorse, every other outweighs ; 
Oh, could I have flown from the crime, that had founded 
That rock of despair, that would never give way. 

But wherever I went, the one I had slain 

Appeared me to follow in hottest pursuit ; 
If I would go backward it was closely behind, 

And its hideous contortions seemed to thunder rebuke. 

— From this horrible phantom, oh ! that I was free, 

But, ah ! there it is, and ever the same, 
Whether heaven has sent it or whatever it be, 

Nor time, nor habit, its terrors can tame. 

From country to country, I've now traveled long, 

Plunged into amusements, but they mocked at my pain ; 

Tried dissipation, in its ten thousand forms, 
All, all, I have tried, but all are in vain. — 



A POEM. 43. 



HPo the skill of my pencil, I once had recourse, 

And a likeness I painted of this phantom face, 
That I might diminish the effect of the source, 
By contemplating him who me so menaced. 

But I only redoubled the misery instead, 

Such the curse that has clung to my footsteps till now, 
That's made life a burden, but oh, the death-bed, 

I shudder to think of death's opaque brow. 

He knows what I've suffered who knoweth all things, 
How many wretched days and long sleepless nights; 

What a fire has been burning within my hot brain, 

He knows all my wrongs, they're not hid from his sight. 

My prayers to heaven have at length all been heard, 
For a sign of his pardon, and then let me die ; 

Last evening the temple resounded with words 

Of redemption for me, " oh, be not afraid, it is I, it is I." 



44 ANSELMO BERTINI, 



"C^rom the midst of the music I heard a voice rising, 

A 'Bove the tones of the organ and the strains of the choir, 

With celestial melody it seemed to be vieing, 

And promised forgiveness to a frail erring creature. 

Now, you who have poured sweet sympathy's balm, 

O'er the cruelly made wounds of my torn, bleeding heart, 

Do not shrink from my memory, for my spirit is calm ; 
And when you read of my crime, I shall have received death's 

[dart. 

For to-morrow I go with my blood to atone 

For the act of a moment, that has ruined my life ; 

But the pangs of remorse are already gone, 

And I soon shall dwell where there enters no strife. 

Then, farewell to earth, with its phantoms of joy, 
They've cheated me ever into pain of despair ; 

But, ah, heaven's pleasures are unmixed with alloy, 
Oh, farewell to earth, I soon shall be there." 



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